The Paladin Perspective
by kittykattle90
Summary: Ch 3/? - OC/OC - Haunted by his failures, Rhoderen seeks to recapture his honour the only way he knows how - revenge - but what he encounters is far more than he expected, and he learns that sometimes all you really need is a change in perspective.
1. Chapter 1

"Orcs! Orcs spotted by the river!" A young boy stumbled into the camp. His cheeks were red and a fine sheen of sweat coated his forehead, he was gasping for breath with a hand flat against his heart.

Metal chinked and clanged as fifteen soldiers reached for their weapons instinctively.

"What?!"

"How dare they dirty Alliance soil!"

"Horde scum!"

"We'll slaughter them all!"

The resounding roars of outrage came thick and fast, men of all races shouting over one another.

"Quiet down! At ease!" Rhoderen, a large Draenei paladin stood and hurried to the young human. The top of his head barely reached his chest.

"A... A gold breastplate! You're in charge, Sir? Please... Please help us!" The boy rushed forward.

"Calm down. I need to know what you're talking about. How did you find us?"

"My Father... He'd seen your soldiers on the road just yesterday eve. He had hoped you would still be in the area – thank the Light he was right!" The young boy wiped his face and gave a short laugh.

"Fortunate indeed. How many?" The paladin fixed his gaze on the boy.

"Thirty or so, Sir." The boy panted, eyes wide with panic. "A group of farm hands saw them, they were going to the river to replenish their water skins... Only one made it back. Sheer luck it was Sir, he was tailing behind the others and... A-and.." He swallowed.

"Can you tell me which part of the river exactly?" The paladin found his hand tightening around the handle of his sword.

"The river, Sir. Between Westfall and Elwynn."

"And you said there were thirty of them?" The paladin ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully. The skin was rough with a day and a half of stubble.

"Yes, Sir." The boy replied, finally having caught his breath, he slumped forwards with his hands on his knees.

"Then they're either a special task force or acting on their own. If they wanted Alliance territory, there would be more than thirty, especially so close to Stormwind. They're here for another reason."

Rhoderen paused, a dark expression crossing his face as he put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"I'm tempted to think this troupe of Orcs are acting alone. If they were in fact a special task force, they'd be in and out, clean and efficient. Not loitering out in the open, killing innocent farm labourers." Rhoderen shook his head.

"But it's not just Orcs, Sir." The young messenger piped up, "I mean, it's _mostly_ Orcs, but there are others."

The paladin glanced over his shoulder at the small group of soldiers stood at his back.

"All of you – gather your gear. Keep it light, we're going to travel quickly and on foot."

The camp burst into life; the air filled with cheers as soldiers hurried to collect their battle equipment. Rhoderen sucked in a deep breath.

_Third day appointed as Captain – the Horde invades. Nothing like being thrown in at the deep end..._

"Explain, boy."

"The surviving farm hand got back into town about half hour ago. I ran here as fast as my legs could carry me! He said they were mostly Orcs, but he definitely saw... Trolls, Sir."

"_Fucking Trolls..._" Rhoderen muttered under his breath. He turned his attention back to the boy. "Do you have a safe route home?"

"Yes Sir. The Horde are down near the water, my Father instructed me to run along the old mountain track." The boy nodded.

"Alright, you return the same way you came. It's not safe to go on foot, you'll take one of our scouting horses. Return to your family, and tell everyone to remain indoors and stockpile any weapons they have. They're only to use them in matters of self defence, clear?" Rhoderen ordered.

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" The boy beamed.

Rhoderen caught the eye of a Human paladin through the crowds and he gestured him over.

"Give the boy one of the horses, we'll collect it from the farm when this is all over. I need you to make sure a message gets to Stormwind. Should this go south, we're going to need the back up. The Horde outnumber us, but we need to move out. They're too close to the farming land to wait for reinforcements."

"Yes, Sir." The paladin nodded and steered the young boy through the camp. Rhoderen watched them leaving, deep in thought.

_It would be suicidal for a team of thirty to try and get closer to Stormwind... They must be trying to get to either Westfall or Darkshire. They surely wouldn't have made their journey via the waterways if Darkshire was their goal... Which means they're going for Westfall. We're going to need-_

"They're going for Westfall. We're going to need to drive them back into Duskwood. It's over-run with the undead, but there will be less chance of innocent casualties."

"You really have to stop doing that." Rhoderen chuckled quietly, turning to face the only person in his team of fifteen that could have made a suggestion so close to his own.

"Apologies, did I interrupt your train of thought? It was just a suggestion." The small Draenei warrior-woman stared back at him, almost defiantly.

"No need to apologise, Halena." Rhoderen cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Actually, you merely voiced what I was already strategising in my mind."

"A group of thirty will be contained. They'll be easy to flank. If we come in from the East in mass, with a few blocking the South we can drive them West." The warrior flicked a long strand of dark, glossy hair back, tucking it behind a small, neatly curled horn. Rhoderen followed the motion with his eyes.

"And if we lose them, and they go North?" He challenged.

"Unlikely. They'd have to wade through the thick mud on the riverbanks – but should that happen, there is at least a mile of open plain before any civilisation in Westfall." Halena licked her lips and Rhoderen fought to keep his eyes fixed on hers.

"It's closer than I'd personally like to be, but you're right – it wouldn't be a disaster. I am concerned the undead in Duskwood could, potentially, be more of a hindrance than a help." Rhoderen ran a hand over his chin once more.

"It is a potential hazard, however in the few encounters I have had with the undead, I have learnt one thing."

"Oh? And what's that?" Rhoderen asked, cocking an eyebrow. It was still mind-boggling that a creature that appeared so delicate and almost painfully feminine could have such a brutal history.

"They like fresh meat." Halena's lips quirked into a smile.

"I'm not following..."

"Strike the first blood and the undead do the rest. They're mindless animals; they smell blood and are drawn like a moth to the flame. So long as we ensure the Horde sustain the worst injuries, we shouldn't have to worry too much."

"Until the Horde are done, and the monsters turn their attention to us? We'll be tired, injured and then faced with a potentially unlimited army of zombies to outrun?" Rhoderen countered.

"Like I said, it was only a suggestion... Sir." Halena replied curtly. The paladin clenched his fists, by the Light did that warrior make his blood boil. Even after all this time...

He and Halena had a history. Once upon a time, they'd been sparing partners back when they were training in Ironforge.

As a younger man, he'd lusted after her shamelessly. He'd even thought they might have had a real 'thing' going, but other than one (or two) drunken kisses, he'd never had the chance to find out for sure. A few short months after he'd met her, he'd been enlisted into the forces and shipped out to Warsong Gulch.

It was a dark period of his life where every day had been consumed with bloodshed and brutal violence. It never let up, he and his squad lived their lives on the edge – barely sleeping, death was a constant threat.

Even as a man of the Light, he was changed. Halena, happier days and everything else had dimmed to a distant memory.

Five and a half long years later, Warsong Gulch had reached a stalemate. Neither the Alliance nor the Horde was progressing, their troupe was diseased and half-dead with exhaustion. His squad leader had made the gracious decision to retreat his men, instead recruiting fresh warriors from various Alliance cities. Rhoderen had been relieved of his duties after total of six years service. A rarity – Warsong Gulch soldiers were affectionately named 'fodder' for a reason.

When he had returned to Ironforge, everyone he had once known had moved on to greater things. Even his trainer, Beldruk Doombrow, had retired and moved to the sunny shores of Tanaris.

Rhoderen had been alone... or so he had thought.

He could still remember it now. Rhoderen had found himself returning to the frozen training pitch on a daily basis. He had thought the area to be abandoned; the new trainers preferred to use the attack dummies inside – presumably because they were located next to a pit of hot coals as opposed to out in the elements!

Sometimes he'd only sit there for a few moments, other days he'd stay for hours – staring out at the frozen landscape, soaking in the nostalgia.

As it turned out, there was still one 'old school' warrior who wasn't afraid to face below freezing conditions. Rhoderen had recognised her instantly. They'd only known one another a few months when he'd been enlisted, and even in that short relationship they'd found plenty to disagree on - but that day, Halena had run to his arms like he'd meant something.

They'd spent a few weeks getting to know one another again, chatting easily about the past – and, to Rhoderen's surprise, they still had plenty in common in the present too. Warsong may have changed him, but Halena was exactly as he remembered her – feisty, determined and just the sort of woman he should be with.

Naturally, word had gotten around that he had been one of the few lucky individuals to survive a full term posted in Warsong Gulch and it wasn't long until he'd been offered a post with the Order in Stormwind.

Rhoderen had taken the offer, and shortly after had recommended Halena to his superiors. A few months later, he had been promoted to Captain.

His career may have advanced, but the relationship he and Halena had seemed halted. Rhoderen wasn't sure why he hesitated taking things further with her – she was perfect for him, they'd had a good thing once, he was sure they could have it again. But he always felt like he was missing something with the woman, like he couldn't quite get a handle on her.

Could he trust her completely? Warriors were renowned for being unreliable and too wholly driven by their lust for battle. Was Halena the same?

"Don't be like that, you know I appreciate your opinions." Rhoderen smiled tightly, "I'd just rather not end up as dessert. I don't know about this, Halena. We're not prepared for a battle, not yet..."

"You wouldn't make a very good dessert, Captain. You're a bit bitter." Halena turned on her heel, leaving his other doubts unanswered.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He replied, barely keeping a straight face.

"Hear what?" She looked over her shoulder at him with faux-innocence. It was a disturbingly good look on her.

"Exactly." Rhoderen grinned, "Now, where is your helmet?"

"Ugh, I don't need it. I'll be fine – no one ever gets close enough to hit my head anyway." The girl shrugged nonchalantly, toeing the dirt. "Besides, it's uncomfortable and makes my hair messy."

"Too bad." Rhoderen replied sternly, internally both amused and shocked by her feminine admission. "I quite like your head _on_ your body. Is your kit still with mine?"

The paladin started off through the camp towards his own armour, but not before he heard a heavy sigh of irritation from behind him.

Within moments he'd reached the large boulder he'd rested his heavier armour pieces against just a few hours ago. Rhoderen had to admit he wasn't exactly looking forward to putting _his_ thick plate back on either, but he only had to look at the deep cleaves in the surfaces to remind himself how important good quality armour is in the fray.

"Your helmet is over there." The paladin nodded his head towards a rather ornate headpiece that had been unceremoniously dumped in a patch of long scrub grass.

Halena grumbled something under her breath, but obediently retrieved the helmet.

As Rhoderen pulled on the thick leather straps to tighten his armour plates, his mind returned once again to the battle ahead of his troupe. They hadn't had time to bond like he'd hoped before their first horde encounter, but he felt positive. The group were strong and were, mostly, level headed and obedient. Despite this, he still sent a silent pray to the Light – requesting protection for the group.

"Rhoderen, do you mind?" Halena interrupted, "If you're going to make me wear this stupid thing, you can at least help me do the buckle up. It's really stiff."

The warrior slid her helmet on, taking great care to carefully adjust her hair underneath it. A laugh escaped Rhoderen before he could hold it back.

"It's not funny!" The warrior scowled.

"It is a bit." Rhoderen gestured the woman forward with a flick of his fingers. Halena obeyed, tilting her chin up. "And this buckle wouldn't be so stiff if you wore your helmet more often. I don't know why you hate it so much, it's a really nice piece of plate."

"I agree. It's a fantastic piece of armour – but that doesn't make it any less uncomfortable." Halena grumbled.

"This would be much easier if you'd shut up for two seconds you know..." Rhoderen chided. Halena shot him a playfully venomous look.

"There." Rhoderen tucked the slack leather strap in and took a step back.

Halena held his eye contact for a few heated seconds longer than was strictly necessary before turning on her heel abruptly. Rhoderen averted his gaze uncomfortably.

"Are we going to kick some Horde ass, or what?" She shouted over her shoulder. Two Dwarven men stood a few feet away cheered.

Rhoderen let go of the breath he wasn't even aware he was holding.

_That woman..._

He shook his head defeated, before snatching his own helmet from the ground and shoving it roughly over his horns.

* * *

It didn't take long to find the Horde invaders.

"Not exactly conspicuous are they, Sir?" A Night Elf muttered dryly from beside Rhoderen as his small splinter team crept closer in the undergrowth.

"No, these Horde definitely weren't sent here by Thrall. That's for certain." The paladin agreed.

The young farm boy had been right. The group was mostly made up of Orcs; loud, senseless, dirty beasts. Rhoderen shuddered. This group seemed particularly 'Orc-ish' – even if they'd been silent, Rhoderen could have tracked them here by smell alone.

One particularly ugly Orc stood and yelled a lewd comment across the make-shift camp. Several others laughed – a horrendous rattling, guttural sound.

Rhoderen wrinkled his nose and wished for the thousandth time he couldn't understand Orcish.

From their vantage point, the paladin could make out a smattering of other races amongst the Orcs – five or six Trolls, a handful of Tauren... None of the more 'civilised' Horde races.

The paladin was both relieved and disappointed there were no Blood Elves in the mix. He'd fought his fair share of them in his Warsong days. They were clever enemies – one he was proud to have mastered, and now took particular pleasure in obliterating.

In the short time he'd spent observing the group, Rhoderen had come to the conclusion they weren't even a splinter faction of the Horde. These were just hired mercenary's, seemingly pulled together from all corners of Azeroth.

_Why are they here?_ _Who has hired them?_

"Stay focussed." The paladin whispered to his team and looked out across the plains for signs of the others. "They still outnumber us – don't forget that."

He fought a fresh wave of doubt. He didn't like not being certain... Was he making a mistake?

Rhoderen glanced back at the small group of men he had accompanying him. They were young, fresh to the ugly face of war. He'd done his best to prepare them... He hope Halena was right and that that would be enough.

A few moments later he spotted the rest of his battalion, one team was crouched behind a gently curved mound of grass; using the hill to their full advantage. The larger of the splinter teams moved into position shortly after.

They were the offensive – and, naturally, they were headed by Halena. Rhoderen didn't often approve of the warrior-woman's vicious fighting style, but in situations like this there was no one better.

A bright flash caught his attention in the long grass. Halena had angled the smooth, polished surface of one of her dual blades to the sun, shining sunlight up at him.

It was their pre-arranged sign – she was ready.

"Hold steady until they break cover – then we move in. Keep to the flank, we're putting pressure on the Horde. Don't forget yourselves in the heat of the moment." He muttered, pulling his own own sword free from it's scabbard. Rhoderen carefully rested the tip of his shield on the ground as he rocked onto his feet, keeping his body as low as he could manage in his restrictive plate armour.

His movement was the only encouragement Halena needed. Her team crept slowly closer to the Horde group – who were, thankfully, still blissfully unaware of their presence.

The woods seemed to fall deathly silent. The birds ceased singing, even the wind died; leaving the atmosphere heavy and thick with tension. A bead of sweat tracked down Rhoderen's nose as he and his men remained crouched, ready to spring.

There was a loud whoop that cut through the tension like a knife. In the blink of an eye, Halena – flanked on either side by three of his men – charged forward through the grass.

He watched, frozen, as the warrior plunged her sword clean through an unsuspecting Orc's throat. A second later, that same blade was pulled free and driven through a Tauren's abdomen – her other blade arcing gracefully to slice a deep gouge into the animal's hamstring. The beast fell forward with a grunt, bright, fresh blood pooling in the grass.

Rhoderen didn't have time to think after that. He shot forwards from the undergrowth, running headlong at the Horde. He couldn't hear his own battle-fueled roar over the blood pounding in his ears.

Within seconds, his heavy shield splintered a Troll's skull who'd had the misfortune of sitting with his back to Rhoderen's advance. Hot blood spurted forwards in jets, shining wet and slick in the summer sunshine.

The silence was filled with the clattering of weapons and the roars of war.

It didn't take the Horde long to react to the ambush. Rhoderen charged into the fray, slashing out with his sword. This time it collided with an Orcish mace, sending painful vibrations through his bones. The paladin gripped the hilt of his sword tighter and pushed forward, striking half a second later with his shield.

The blow staggered the Orc, forcing him to fall onto his back foot. Rhoderen gritted his teeth, ducked his head and heaved forward with his body weight. His assailant didn't stand a chance. The Orc was down, landing heavily on his back. Before he even hit the floor, Rhoderen's sword was forcing its way between the Orc's ribs. Rhoderen exhaled with the satisfying cracking noise.

He had no time to rest. The Captain glanced quickly across the field at his men, just in time to see a Tauren plunge a blade into the chest of one of his warriors. The Human spluttered, exhaling a fine red mist into the air.

Before Rhoderen had managed to think, he saw Halena lunge forward – scissoring her blades at either side of the Tauren's neck. With a grunt of effort, the deadly weapons sliced deep into the enemy's body. The warrior didn't waste energy decapitating him completely, instead she chose to let him suffer. The Tauren would bleed out in seconds, but Halena had ensured they would be agonising.

The warrior looked right through him, but Rhoderen saw a flash of sorrow in her expression as she glanced down at their fallen comrade. The Human was already gone, his eyes glassy and skin clammy and sallow.

An Orc leapt forward, slamming the hilt of his sword into the base of Halena's skull. Before he'd even noticed his body moving, Rhoderen was burying his sword through the Orc's eye socket. The enemy's body slumped forward, and he gave it a hefty shove to prevent it falling onto the dazed warrior-woman.

"He didn't _see_ that coming, did he?" Halena shouted, her voice hoarse.

A laugh burst from Rhoderen's chest.

"_Watch_ yourself next time, warrior!" He shouted back. Halena shot him a beaming smile before darting forwards with her blades, driving them straight through the kidney's of a Troll who was assaulting an injured Dwarf.

Within the blink of an eye, Halena disappeared. Rhoderen turned his attention back to the war-zone laid in front of him.

He drove himself forward, striking out with his sword to assist others where he could. He desperately needed to find a landmark – where were they? How far had they driven the Horde?

The paladin was struck off course, something hard colliding with his chest plate knocked him clean off his feet. There was a sickening crunch as three of his ribs cracked.

"Fancy gold breastplate. This one's important."

Rhoderen leapt to his feet quickly, narrowly dodging another blow. The 'particularly ugly' Orc was wielding a huge, heavy mace.

"_Fuck_, you're the ugliest bastard I've ever seen!" Rhoderen yelled, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the grass.

"A pretty-boy Draenei!" The Orc laughed, bearing his teeth, "I didn't notice with your pretty face in the dirt!"

The Orc swung out with his mace once again. Rhoderen dodged it easily this time – a weapon that size was deadly when used to take enemies by surprise, but in a close-combat situation it was far too slow and unwieldy.

"Ooh, pretty-boy Captain can dance!" The Orc taunted, swinging his mace again. This time, as Rhoderen darted to the side, the Orc anticipated it and kicked out viciously.

The paladin's sword flew from his hand and slid across the blood-slicked grass.

"Uh-oh, pretty-boy's in trouble now, what y—uggh!"

Rhoderen struck out, his fist colliding square with the Orc's jaw. The mace swung awkwardly to the side, knocking a Night Elf off his feet.

The paladin lunged forward with another hard jab, this time angling upwards. Something in the Orc's face cracked and Rhoderen felt the flesh give way under his knuckles.

A swift, plate armour encased knee to the groin and the Orc released his hold on the mace. By a stroke of good fortune, the Orc seemed to have removed his groin-plate. Rhoderen didn't want to think too much about _why, _but he was thankful nonetheless.

The Orc fell to his knees and Rhoderen didn't hesitate to lash out with his shield, driving one of the sharpened spikes that lined the front of the weapon into his enemy's face.

_And I didn't think he could get any more ugly..._

Rhoderen fought not to gag as he was enveloped in the choking stench of fresh Orc's blood. The paladin had seen more than his fair share of battle gore over the years, but he still couldn't get used to the smell of a dead Orc – and this Orc had been a particularly ripe individual even _before_ he'd lost his face.

Holding his breath, Rhoderen glanced for his sword. His eyes burnt, his vision was blurred... Where was it? He knew he had a matter of seconds until another Horde monster realised he was disarmed.

A glint of metal caught his eye, but it wasn't his sword... It was a highly polished dagger hilt, buried deep in a thick, well-muscled thigh. Blue blood dripped freely from the wound, sparkling in the sunlight.

Rhoderen stopped breathing.

Halena cried out in pain as she hobbled slowly away from the battle field. She was already a way out of the fray, seemingly she had managed to sneak by unnoticed.

The dagger was only small, but the entirety of the blade was in her leg. From the positioning, Rhoderen could tell it had probably severed the femoral artery. The warrior leant against the trunk of the tree and gripped the dagger with shaking hands. She was going to remove it.

Maybe if he could get to her in time... He might be able to use one of his healing spells. It wasn't his strong suite, but although the dagger was in a deadly position, the injury shouldn't be too extensive. He could manage a stab wound - it would take a lot out of him, and Rhoderen would have to be cautious afterwards, but at least Halena wouldn't bleed out.

He felt like he was running through treacle. The battle seemed to race on around him, but he couldn't get to Halena fast enough. Rhoderen lost his footing on the slick, gore-covered grass and stumbled.

His mouth went dry.

Rhoderen watched on in horror as a Troll materialised from thin air behind Halena.

_A Rogue..._

He tried to shout, but there was no air in his lungs. She hadn't seen him – of course she hadn't. The Rogue had a sickeningly calm expression. His eyes were glinting with excitement... He was going to _enjoy_ it...

With more strength than he knew he had, Rhoderen charged forward, slipping his arm free from his shield and throwing it forward with as much force as he could physically muster.

The heavy metal shot forward in a blur, until there was a loud crunch. The Rogue grunted in a foreign tongue, Halena cried out in surprise.

Rhoderen didn't stop to think, with adrenaline pumping furiously through his veins – he just acted. With a roar that sounded more like a beast than a man, he lunged forwards and slammed his helmet into the Rogue's skull.

The Rogue stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. Before he could even take a breath, a foot collided with Rhoderen's stomach, swiftly followed by a fist to his face.

The paladin's ears were ringing, inky splotches dirtied his vision and still he pushed forward.

_Won't... Can't... Let him hurt her..._

Rhoderen didn't even feel the blade buried into the meaty muscle between his neck and shoulder. The Rogue, clearly expecting a different reaction, lost his grip on the dagger.

_One less to stick in Halena..._

The paladin struck out, slamming his elbow into the Troll's chin. Rhoderen didn't let him recover, instead drove his elbow into the Rogue's temple, then into the back of his skull.

The Troll lashed forward, and unlike the blade still sticking out of his neck – Rhoderen felt the tiny throwing blades bite into his skin. In seconds, the entry sites were on fire.

_Poison..._

He didn't have long. Rhoderen had to take the Troll down _now_. In minutes he could be paralysed or unconscious... Halena would be defenceless. He prayed to the Light the Rogue was using poisons designed for merely inflicting agonising pain. He could take pain.

With a brutal yell, Rhoderen overpowered the Troll. The Rogue was clearly a skilled fighter, but he was built for sneaking in the shadows. When it came to brute strength, Rhoderen would win hands down.

The Rogue fought against him, slashing out wherever he could find foothold, but his situation was looking more and more desperate. The paladin willed his burning muscles to hold, gradually dragging the Rogue to the ground.

Before he could dodge the attack, the Troll lashed out – his long claw-like nails gouging into Rhoderen's cheek. The paladin felt the flesh rip and tear away, coming away under the Rogue's fingernails. He shouted in agony before sinking his fangs into the Rogue's wrist. Hot blood spurted and filled his mouth.

"Rhoderen... Watch-!"

He heard Halena's warning a fraction too late.

The Rogue had disappeared from underneath his hands. A sickening chuckle rumbled behind him. Rhoderen turned slowly, looking up from his knees.

He had Halena's throat under a blade. A small, delicate drip of blue blood ran down her neck from the vicious contact the Troll had on her.

"Y'bit me mon... An' you people call _us_ da monstah's..." The Troll addressed them in Orcish, knowing full well, as Draenei's, they could understand every word. He glanced down at his wrist with a wince. It was bleeding freely, dripping slow, thick drops into the grass.

Rhoderen bared his teeth at him, feeling every part the monster the Troll was talking about.

"Let her go..." He growled, heaving himself to his feet.

"Y'be tenacious, I'll give ya dat, mon." The Rogue paused, a darkness flooding his eyes as his lips stretched into a grin as he lowered his mouth to Halena's ear. "I tink dat's somethin' t'do wit'chu, sweet ting."

Halena's luminescent pupils flickered to Rhoderen. The paladin didn't take his eyes of the Troll.

"Y'see beasts go crazy like dat in da wild all da time..." The Rogue chuckled, "He be protectin' his mate."

"I'm not going to ask you again." Rhoderen spat, "Let. Her. Go."

"Nah mon, dun' tink so." The Troll lowered his face into Halena's exposed neck, "Mm... She be smellin' good... Soft... Bet she tight as a fist too, mon. Dat true, Paladin?"

Rhoderen snarled.

"Mm, bet she is." A long, blue tongue darted out from the Troll's mouth as he ran it slowly along Halena's neck. The Draenei whimpered and struggled anew, despite her shaking.

"See, Paladin, she be likin' it." The Rogue fixed Rhoderen with a stare.

Fresh coppery blood flooded the Draenei's mouth as he clenched his teeth tighter.

"Any minute now, sweet ting." The Rogue grinned, "Yo' man gonna blow any minute. Then I'ma kill him, an' take you fo' a trophy. Den I'll mount ya dusk 'til dawn."

Rhoderen launched himself forward.

With a guttural yell, Halena suddenly jabbed her helmet back into the Troll's nose. Temporarily stunned, the Rogue relaxed his hold on the dagger at her throat.

The warrior grabbed the blade in her leg with both hands and, with a tortured cry, yanked it free. In one smooth motion, she turned the blade around and drove it ferociously backwards into the Troll's stomach.

"_Mount that, you son of a bitch!_" She growled, pushing her weight down into the blade so it tore through his flesh, her hands shaking with the effort.

The Troll crumpled forwards, lunging out wildly with his dagger. He missed her jugular by a few inches, digging a deep gouge into Halena's cheek instead.

She yelled out, and with brutal force – twisted the knife.

Rhoderen stared at her. Halena exhaled, her eyes rolling back into her head before she let go of the dagger's hilt, leaving it jutting out of the Troll at a gruesome angle. Her knees crumpled underneath her weight and she hit the floor with a heavy thud.

The Troll momentarily forgotten, Rhoderen dived forward and clamped his large hands over the wound in her leg that was now spurting blood at an alarming rate.

The Rogue dropped to the floor shortly afterwards, his breath shallow and crackling as blood filled his lungs. The paladin fixed him with a stare as cold as ice.

"I hope it's long and slow." There was no emotion in his voice. The Troll grimaced back at him, struggling to hold his abdomen closed.

"H... Hope ya lookit... dose scars e-every fuckin' day, ya bastard... Nng! S-she gon' die, Paladin..." The Rogue spluttered.

"I don't think so." Rhoderen closed his eyes and focussed. He didn't have much left to give, but it might be enough... It had to be enough. He started muttering a healing spell under his breath.

"F-fuckin' Paladins..." The Troll growled angrily, but Rhoderen couldn't hear him any more.

Light, brighter than anything Mother Nature could create, flooded out from Rhoderen's palms. He held the wound tight, feeling a familiar cold, tingling sensation as the magic left his body.

"Ngh... _f-fuck..._" Agony flooded every inch of him. With the last of his mana reserves depleted, the minor pain relief his magic provided vanished. He was left with cold reality.

He barely managed to finish the last words of the healing spell before he collapsed forward, narrowly avoided landing on Halena, who was now sprawled unconscious on the grass.

Rhoderen was suffering like nothing else he'd ever experienced, every cell in his being screamed in pain, and yet he couldn't escape it. The Paladin had a sneaking feeling the poison the Troll had used was designed to do just that – unconsciousness refused to envelop him, he was going to feel _everything_. Rhoderen roared in agony, hot tears running from his eyes as his insides twisted and burned.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The Paladin dry-heaved and coughed, his mouth was dry, his skull felt like it was about to explode... Dazed, he glanced across at the Draenei woman before him.

Halena's leg had stopped bleeding, but the wound was anything but fully healed. He grimaced realising she would be forever marred with a hideous scar – the tissue was holding together, but was still dark and raw looking. Even the best healer couldn't change scar tissue once it had been set in place by magic.

He watched, entranced as her chest slowly rose, then fell.

_But she's alive..._

In a moment of clarity, Rhoderen struggled to his knees. Black flooded his vision and he fell forwards onto his hands. He ran a shaking hand over his clammy face before gritting his teeth and forcing himself upright once more. He grabbed Halena under her arms and pulled her inch by agonising inch across the grass.

_Must... Must hide her somewhere..._

They were fortunate enough to be a reasonably safe distance from the battle now – Rhoderen's soldiers were following orders; the Horde was slowly being pushed backwards towards the dark gloom of Duskwood.

That bought them some time, but Rhoderen couldn't let her lie there, exposed on the grass. They couldn't risk being discovered by any traitorous Horde fleeing the battle.

The Troll was gone – the only sign of his presence was the large pool of dark, coagulating blood growing thick and sticky on the grass.

He wouldn't get far, that Rhoderen was certain of.

It didn't matter now, he had to get Halena somewhere before the next wave of agony hit him.

Through hazy vision, he spotted a large tree trunk surrounded by shrubs and bushes at the base. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't as far from the battle as he'd have liked, but Rhoderen doubted he could make it any further and at least it had a little more cover. With a grunt, he pulled Halena's dead weight, dragging her closer to his target.

He had to pause to rest several times in the short distance, but eventually Rhoderen collapsed with his back against the rough, cool bark of the tree.

The Paladin pulled Halena closer, holding her back to his chest. He tucked her legs out of view, gently so as not to disturb her stab wound, and exhaled.

Rhoderen was shaking, his teeth chattering violently, as he felt the poison re-group for another assault on his body. He hissed in a breath, squeezing Halena tightly and clenched his jaw.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there. All his senses were dimmed, minutes crawled by like hours. The pain was the only sensation that felt real any more.

It was a surprise when the trees began to billow around them, the air churned up by an unseen force. The undergrowth swayed and dust dirtied the air.

A piercing cry echoed overheard... It was familiar... Rhoderen looked to the sky, squinting as the bright summer sun burnt his sensitive retinas. Golden wings soared by gracefully.

Gryphons. Stormwind had received their request for back up.

_Thank the Light..._ Rhoderen's eyes slid closed.

* * *

Chapter One of... Many!


	2. Chapter 2

It was hot.

_Too hot..._

Rhoderen ran a hand over his face, swiping beads of sweat from his brow.

"Rhoderen?" A familiar voice asked.

The paladin tried to reply, but his words came out as an indistinguishable grunt.

"Do you need a drink?"

A water skin was held to his mouth. The familiar person slowly squeezed the water into his mouth, taking care not to choke him. He was so thirsty, he drank greedily.

"The healers said you'd be thirsty. The poison left you really dehydrated, but I was told not to let you drink too much all in one go..."

The water skin was pulled away and Rhoderen groaned.

"Thanks..." He coughed. The paladin tried to open his eyes and was surprised to find he was lying in darkness. "What time is it?" His voice was hoarse and gravelly.

"I'm not sure, it's late. It took them a while to extract your poison... There was so much." The voice cracked, "It was a miracle you hadn't died."

Rhoderen felt a drop of something wet on his cheek, followed by something soft and warm. A kiss? He struggled to focus in the dim light. A pair of pretty luminescent eyes watched him carefully.

"Takes more than a bit of Troll poison to kill me..." He groaned as he forced his aching, stiff limbs to move in an attempt to sit up.

"You nearly die and you're _still_ an arrogant bastard..." There was a heavy, irritable sigh but her tone was relieved. Rhoderen suddenly made the connection.

"Halena?" He whispered.

"Of course it is. Who did you think-? Never mind, they said you might be confused when you woke up. Do you remember what happened?" The Draenei woman asked. Rhoderen felt a hand brush his arm. He reached out and clasped the hand tightly.

"I remember everything..." He paused, "But I wish I didn't. How is your leg?"

"It's fine – thanks to you." The woman whispered, "It all happened so fast. I don't know what I was thinking pulling that dagger from my leg... But you were there to protect me – you're always there to protect me."

There was a long pause. Halena's luminescent eyes fixed on him. She shifted closer... Rhoderen's heart hammered in his chest, making him feel dizzy. Was she going to kiss him?

"No, I have to say that wasn't the most logical thing I've ever seen you do!" Rhoderen gave a short laugh and ran his hand over his face once again, turning away from her quickly.

Rhoderen couldn't face looking her in the eye, but Halena's confusion was palpable. He couldn't breathe...

_What are you doing?_ _Isn't this what you wanted?_

"Did that Troll die?" She asked eventually, a vicious undertone crept into her voice.

"I think so... I didn't see for sure, but he couldn't have survived. You gutted him." He replied, grateful for the subject change, "How did the rest of the troupe fair? Did we... Were we successful?"

There was a pause. Rhoderen swallowed hard.

"Yes. We were successful." Halena answered simply.

"To what cost?"

"The important thing is we killed all the Horde, and you survived to-"

"Damn it Halena!" Rhoderen snapped angrily, "To what cost? How many did we lose?"

"Almost all of them. There were four survivors, the others were in a pretty bad shape too, but they were healed in time."

The air was thick. It was too hot...

"F-four. Including us?" The paladin growled, his heart thundered in his throat.

"...Yes."

Rhoderen's eyes slid closed, dizziness swallowing him.

"That... Is not good news." He replied, his tone was clipped and short.

"There are always casualties in war, you know that better than anyone and-"

"Yes. I do know that better than anyone – which is why I should never have-"

"You can't blame yourself for-"

"What? Can't blame myself for what, Halena?" He shouted, sitting upright so suddenly he knocked his shoulder roughly into the warrior, "Killing my men? Please, tell me why the _fuck _I shouldn't blame myself for that?!"

He was met with silence.

"I should never have listened..." Rhoderen trailed off, the words dying in his throat.

"Should never have listened to me?" Halena finished, her voice emotionless.

There was another heavy, tension-laden pause.

"They weren't ready. I knew they weren't ready..." Rhoderen whispered, his voice shook. He felt like his chest was trapped in a vice, his lungs couldn't expand. He was choking on his own guilt.

"I think you should try to rest now." Halena replied, her voice tight.

A shaking hand rested on his shoulder and gently pushed him down on to his back. Rhoderen didn't fight it.

He let his eyes slide closed, exhaustion overwhelmed him. He knew he'd have to wake and face the morning eventually, but couldn't fight his own conscience that told him he didn't deserve to wake up at all.

* * *

"Four survivors. That's what I've been told. Correct?" The lieutenant stared out of the fogged window pane. Rain lashed against it, filling the cold, stone room with gentle pattering.

"Yes, Sir."

Rhoderen felt sick. His armour bit into his skin, the once snug, tailor-made plates didn't seem to fit any more. He felt like he was trapped.

"I would ask for your explanation, but I don't think I want to hear it." The older human shot him a vicious glance from the corner of his eye, "With a mortality rate like that, I don't think I could stomach it."

The paladin swallowed, willing the room to stop spinning. He stood to attention, frozen in the middle of the room.

"Please tell me something good came out of this... _massacre_."

"Sir?"

"Do we know who arranged this seemingly mindless attempt at... whatever they were trying to do." The lieutenant replied, turning to face Rhoderen for the first time since he'd been summoned to the tower.

"We had come to the conclusion the group were hired mercenaries. We do not believe they had any connection to Thrall or official Horde business." A bead of sweat tracked down the paladin's face.

"So what were they doing there?" The human asked, moving to sit behind his desk. The chair scraped loudly, echoing around the room.

"That... is what I hope to find out. I would like to request permission to investigate this further personally, Sir." Rhoderen swallowed, "I don't expect any assistance in this matter. I will go alone."

"Seeing as you got your 'assistance' killed, Captain, I couldn't have offered any to you whether I had wanted to or not." The lieutenant snapped.

Rhoderen shuddered, biting his tongue. The room was swimming more and more violently by the second.

"However... You have permission to follow up on this matter." The human fixed him with a steady gaze, "Come back with answers... Or I will personally ensure you never have a position within the military above chamber-pot cleaner."

Rhoderen was hot. He was going to throw up. He swallowed thickly.

"Are we clear, Captain?" The lieutenant addressed him, disdain evident in his tone.

"Yes, Sir." Rhoderen bowed his head.

"Get out of my sight."

The Draenei moved quickly, letting himself out into the, thankfully, deserted corridor. The fresh air did little to help his nausea. Rhoderen jogged to the latrine, barely making it in time before he lost the contents of his stomach.

Once the heaving had subsided, Rhoderen stood and loosened his breastplate. His face was wet with sweat and his teeth chattered. He fought to catch his breath, panting heavily.

It wasn't purely in reaction to the lieutenant's words – the paladin had been feeling nauseous and dizzy for weeks. An after effect of the poison, so he was told. The healers reassured him it would pass eventually. 'Eventually' wasn't coming quickly enough.

He washed his hands and splashed his face with cool water. His head was pounding. Rhoderen rubbed his thumbs into his temple.

He'd had numerous meetings and hearings with his superiors about the events of _that day_. They had all gone similarly or worse than this particular encounter. Rhoderen was just grateful the lieutenant hadn't lingered on the topic too long. He hadn't been so lucky with the others, particularly the other Captains...

He was now 'affectionately' nicknamed _Butcher_.

Rhoderen let himself back out into the corridor, heading towards the exit and praying he didn't run into anyone he knew on the way.

The once proud, bordering on arrogant Captain now walked the halls with his head down. He considered himself lucky if he managed to get by with just some pointed remarks and the odd 'accidental' shove.

Yet Rhoderen didn't wish they treated him differently. He knew, down to his soul, that he deserved their ill-treatment. Every night he tossed and turned, gripped with guilt. The lack of sleep was probably hindering his healing – that combined with his lack of appetite, it was no wonder he was still suffering with the sickness.

He wasn't going to be healed until he did what he needed to do. Rhoderen needed to find out who had hired those Horde mercenaries.

The paladin let himself out through a side-exit onto a dirty backstreet alley. He used to actively avoid such places before... Now he felt like he belonged amongst the beggars and thieves.

It was only a short walk to the barracks, but the rain was coming down in sheets. The streets were quiet, the rain hissed against the cobblestones and tapped against his metal breastplate. He hurried along, lost in his thoughts as he watched large drops of rain drip from the rim of his helmet.

For the first time in months, Rhoderen felt a spark of light in his existence. He wasn't sure what he would have done if the lieutenant had refused his request to follow up on the Horde invasion. He lived for nothing, seeking only redemption... Something to ease the heavy burden of guilt.

Even if he did find the person responsible for the mercenaries, the paladin knew it wouldn't change the facts. He'd gotten his troupe killed – nothing could change that now – but at least he would sleep easier knowing the bastard had gotten what they deserved. That was the best he could do for his men now. He was going to avenge their deaths.

The barracks were alive with activity. The poor weather meant all the soldiers would be cooped up together.

_Great.._

He wasn't going to be able to slip inside unnoticed... Rhoderen took a deep breath and let himself into the building.

"Looking a bit pale there, Captain." A voice jeered almost immediately. The way they said 'Captain' made it sound like an insult. "I take it the meeting with the lieutenant didn't go well?"

"What a shame!" Another soldier joined in, "I don't know why they're so hard on you, it's not like you killed your entire troupe... Oh wait!"

There was a ripple of laughter. Rhoderen kept his head down and didn't say anything. He had long since given up trying to reason with the other soldiers. He hurried through the room to the staircase located at the back of the barracks, taking the steps two at a time.

If he hadn't been a Captain, he would have had to endure sharing the bunk room, but as it was he had his own private quarters. Though he often wished they'd take his title away from him, he was grateful to still have a place he could get away from the jeering and mocking. He darted inside, closing and locking the door behind himself.

Rhoderen exhaled. That never got any easier...

He shook himself hard. He had been given his chance – he was finally going to find the person who hired all those Horde warriors in the first place. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

He was going to clear his name, put an end to the mocking. He would always be tainted with the memory of what he had done, but maybe, if he was successful, he could get forgiveness from some of his peers.

That's all he was asking for, after all. He was never going to _forget_ what he had done...

Rhoderen grabbed a small, worn linen travel backpack, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks.

_First aid kit... Bandages... Anti-venom..._

He wasn't making that mistake again.

There was a short rap at the door. Rhoderen paused.

"Rhoderen, it's me."

Halena.

They'd barely spoken since that night when he'd accused her of misleading him. Yet another thing to feel guilty about. He had since apologised, and the warrior-woman had forgiven him, but their relationship had been strained, filled with stony silences and awkward pauses.

He used to find it so easy to talk to Halena, but now he was always lost for words. Their conversations always felt hollow, like there were a million things they each wanted to say but knew they couldn't. They mostly stuck to small talk.

"Rhoderen." Another tap on the door.

He debated whether to answer her, he could pretend he wasn't here... But she might have already seen him come in.

"Can you let me in?" She asked. Rhoderen sighed and moved to open the door. Once it was unlocked, he moved away and turned his back – focussing on packing his travel bag.

The warrior let herself in, closing the door quietly behind herself.

"How did it go?" She asked.

"As well as I expected." Rhoderen answered simply, tucking a spare under-shirt into the bag.

"Did the lieutenant... Did he agree to let you-?"

"Yes, thankfully. I'm packing my bag now. That Orc, the one we captured – are they still keeping him in the Stockade?"

"I believe so. They haven't managed to get much out of him though. He's proving to be a tough nut to crack." Halena replied, moving from the door to perch on the edge of the paladin's bed.

"We can speak Orcish – maybe that will get us under his skin a little better. I'm not surprised he has managed to withstand the torture."

"Me either, and this Orc is particularly thick skinned. I take it you're going there to question him about who hired him? The warrior asked.

"Correct. I will get what I can from him, then depending on what information I get, I might..." Rhoderen paused to swallow, "I might go down to the battle sight and dig around for clues."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder at Halena. She looked back with large, sorrowful eyes. She looked at him like that a lot these days. Rhoderen turned back to packing with a frown.

"Are you sure that's wise, Rhoderen?" She asked, her voice low and quiet.

"No. If I'm honest, I'm hoping to get all I need from the Orc... But if he proves to be difficult, that's my only other choice. Azeroth is a big place, I can't exactly walk around handing out flyers can I?" The paladin gave a short, sharp laugh.

"The rescue team will have combed the area, I'm sure if they had found anything-"

"They might have missed something." Rhoderen interrupted, "I refuse to believe anyone in that mishmash of Horde was clever enough to cover their tracks. Whoever hired them must have paid them, there must be _something_, some clue I can use."

"...Then I want to come with you. I want to help." Halena stood, a determined look on her face.

"No. You can't. I have to do this alone." He replied sharply.

"Rhoderen..." The warrior paused, "You're not the only person feeling guilt over this. I had a part to play in all of this, maybe a much larger part than anyone realised and-"

"No, you didn't. I was the Captain, it was my choice to... do what we did. I'm sorry for what I said that night. You know that." Rhoderen muttered, shoving emergency rations into the bag with much more force than was truly needed.

"I want to help Rhoderen, I need to. I think if you really think about it, you'll realise you need me to help as well." Halena replied. The paladin saw her cross her arms from the corner of his eye.

He sighed heavily – he didn't want to take the woman along, but he understood her need for redemption all too well. He had made some terrible decisions over the past few weeks, he hoped he wasn't about to make another.

"I leave for the Stockade at first light. If you are not waiting outside the barracks, I will leave without you." He replied curtly, "And I want you to know now that I do not think this is a good idea – but I understand your wanting to help me. I am grateful."

Halena smiled sadly at him. It made the paladin's chest feel tight.

"Thank you Rhoderen." The woman turned to leave, but halted with her hand on the door handle. She turned to look at the paladin. " I'll pack my anti-venom."

"Way ahead of you." The paladin replied. Halena shot him a bright smile before disappearing behind the closed door.

Rhoderen felt a small smile stretch onto his face for the first time in weeks. The guilt was already alleviated just _knowing_ he was on the path of righteousness. Maybe once this mission was over, he could start believing he was a paladin again...

That night, Rhoderen slept.

* * *

They could smell the prisoner before they could see him. The cell was permeated with the strong, acrid smell of Orc blood – both fresh and old.

The human prison guard lead them down the long corridor, no one spoke. The only noise was their armour echoing off the stone walls, clanging and chinking as they walked.

"He's in that cell." The human stopped and gestured to a large wooden door. "He's in chains, but I recommend you don't get too close. He took a bite out of one of the soldiers just yesterday."

"Animal." Halena replied in disgust.

"I couldn't agree more, Miss." The guard nodded and fixed his gaze on Rhoderen, "The sooner he's out of my wing, the better. Do whatever you need to do to, Captain."

Rhoderen nodded. The human turned and walked back the way they had came, leaving the two Draenei's alone in the dark, dank corridor.

"What's the plan?" Halena asked.

"I'm not sure." Rhoderen answered truthfully. "Until I get a handle on him, we'd best just go in and try to talk with him. If we're not getting anywhere with words, we can discuss..._ alternative _methods of loosening his tongue."

"I'm a big fan of alternative methods." Halena shot him a wicked grin.

Rhoderen pulled the wooden door open, the hinges groaned. The sound reverberated eerily down the cold stone passageway. Halena went into the room first.

"Ahh, finally! They send me something to eat." The Orc chuckled menacingly, his voice deep and gravelly.

Rhoderen stepped into the room and was immediately hit with the stench of body odour, Orc blood and bodily waste. He felt a wave of nausea roll over him, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. He heaved and stumbled forwards, a hand grasping the wall for support.

_Not now... _

The paladin held his breath, afraid to take in any more of the terrible stench or risk vomiting. It didn't take much to make him sick at the best of times these days, and this cell... He'd never smelt anything like it.

Halena glanced back over her shoulder and did a double-take.

"Are you okay?" She muttered in common, concern etched over her features.

"Just... give me a minute." Rhoderen replied, swiping the sweat from his brow. The warrior hesitated before nodding and striding further into the cell.

Rhoderen leant back against the cold stone and closed his eyes. He was tucked out of the Orc's line of sight here. He only needed a moment to compose himself... He couldn't let that prisoner see him like this.

"You smell awful!" Halena coughed, covering her nose and mouth. She had addressed the Orc in his native tongue.

"Mm, but you smell..." The Orc paused to inhale deeply, "_Delicious_." He eyed Halena hungrily and licked his lips. Rhoderen clenched his fists.

"That's because I'm not covered in my own excrement." The warrior shot back, holding the Orc's leering gaze.

"Feisty!" The Orc laughed, throwing his head back. "I like it! Have you come to entertain me, little bitch?"

"In a manner of speaking." Halena smiled. "I have to warn you though... I don't play nice."

"Neither do I." The Orc grinned, showing off a set of brown, crooked teeth – framed on either side by huge, discoloured tusks.

"Tell me who hired you, Orc, and this will all be over. I'll bring you a... mostly fresh steak and you can enjoy a final meal before a swift and painless death." Halena stated calmly, tucking her arms behind her back. She slowly circled the prisoner.

"Or what? What's a little girl like you going to do if I decide not to?" The Orc goaded with a hoarse laugh.

"I'm not going to play these games with you, Orc." The warrior ignored his futile efforts to anger her. "Tell me what I want to know."

"You Draenei women are really something." The prisoner let out a low whistle as he ran his eyes up and down the warrior's body. "It's a shame you choose to fight for the Alliance – you'd make fine whores and slaves for the Horde."

"Stop changing the-"

"Would you like to be a sex slave, woman? Your race's males are strong, but they're nothing compared to the might of the Orcs. One night with an Orc and you'd be licking Thrall's-"

There was a dull thud as Halena's fist met with the thick bone in the prisoner's skull.

"Come on princess, hit me again – I like it!" The Orc laughed, licking the fresh blood from his lip where Halena's blow had split the skin.

"Who hired you?" The warrior asked again, this time her voice sounded strained. "We already know you weren't sent by Thrall, you're a mercenary. You're no better than a common criminal – tell me, is there any honour amongst your kind?"

"I'd gladly roll on my employer, Draenei – traitorous scum!" The Orc growled with disgust, spitting a thick glob of bloody mucus onto the stone floor.

"Then tell us, Orc. Tell us who this employer is, where we can find them... I can promise you they won't enjoy what the Alliance has in store for them." Halena crouched down and looked the Orc straight in the eye.

"There is only one thing that is worse than being a traitor, Draenei..." The Orc's face crumpled into a vicious snarl. "Snitching to the Alliance. I'd sooner _die! _Do your worst, _Goat_!" He snapped his teeth.

"I can see there is no reasoning with a beast like you." Halena stood calmly and brushed her hands on her legs. "Usually I'd take pleasure in dragging every last secret from your lips-"

"Just try it, princess." The Orc interrupted. Halena smiled.

"But I just do not have the time to waste on a lowly animal such as yourself."

Before the Orc or Rhoderen knew what was happening, Halena had taken a small blade from the sheath on her belt and had driven it into the prisoner's thigh.

The Orc bellowed and thrashed in his chair. Thick, brown blood oozed from the wound, wetting the scraps of rags the prisoner was dressed in.

"_Bitch! You fucking bitch!_" He gasped and spluttered, spittle flew from his mouth as he strained against his chains.

"Oops, how did that get there?" Halena raised her hand to her forehead in mock distress.

The Orc roared and thrashed anew.

"Now listen here, you piece of shit," The warrior-woman leant forward to stare right into the Orc's eyes. Her voice was low and menacing. "You're going to tell me what you and your sad-sack group of clowns were doing on Alliance soil, and you're not going to spare any details."

"Alliance whore!" The Orc shot back, baring his teeth. "You'll never break me, but I will tell you this – my group of _'sad-sack clowns'_ made short work of your forces... We took pleasure in gutting them, so what does that make you, hm? Fools! You sent boys to do men's work... They died in agony!"

Nausea instantly forgotten, Rhoderen burst from his hiding place.

"Rhoderen, no!" Halena futilely launched herself into the paladin's path. She did little to halt him.

He grasped the Orc by the throat, crushing his windpipe. The beast's eyes bulged and Rhoderen watched as a blood vessel popped, flooding the whites with crimson.

"This is not the way!" Halena screamed, fighting her way between Rhoderen and the prisoner, her claws dug deep into the paladin's arm. He didn't feel it. "Release him, Rhoderen! He will tell us what we need, if you kill him – we'll never know who hired him!"

The Orc spluttered, a truly horrific sound. Saliva oozed from his mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Rhoderen clenched his teeth, squeezed harder. The thin skin at the Orc's throat split, wetting his fingertips with blood... He released his grip.

The Orc gasped, air crackled and whistled as it filled his lungs. Rhoderen turned his back and stalked away. His heart was pounding, anger boiled in his veins. He _would_ kill that Orc once they had what they needed from him, and he'd take pleasure in it...

"Now you know we're serious." Halena shot Rhoderen a worried glance before turning a well-schooled, stony expression back on the Orc. "Don't play games with us any longer. Who hired you?"

"N-never..." The prisoner coughed, fighting for breath.

"Sorry?" Halena growled, "I think I misheard you." She placed a hand gently on the dagger she had placed in his leg and twisted the handle. There was a sickening noise as the blade ground against the bone.

The Orc howled and gnashed his teeth.

"I'll ask again – who hired you?"

"Never tell you!" The Orc yelled, spitting blood on Halena's breastplate.

Surprisingly, the warrior stood, with a cool smile on her face she walked away and joined Rhoderen in a gloomy corner of the cell.

"Oh, I think you will." She cooed, "You see that blade in your leg? It may or may not be coated in a substantial dose of truth serum."

The prisoner thrashed violently, a look of pure hatred crossed his face but his eyes were wide with realisation.

"An Orc your size..." Halena tilted her head thoughtfully, "What do you think Rhoderen? We should have time for a cup of sweet tea, then he should be good and ready to answer our questions."

The woman walked to the cell door and held it open, and gestured for Rhoderen to exit. The Orc continued to roar and bellow, but his threats seemed emptier now.

They were going to get their answers.

Rhoderen exited into the corridor and turned to stare at the warrior, dumbstruck. Truth serums were highly illegal. He didn't know where on Azeroth Halena would have gotten her hands on a vial, especially at such short notice.

She slammed the door behind herself, drowning out the desperate yelling of the Orc and smiled at the paladin.

Before he knew what he was doing, Rhoderen had cupped Halena's face with his hands and placed a crushing kiss against her mouth.

The warrior whimpered with surprise before throwing her arms around his neck. Rhoderen walked her a few paces backwards to the wall and pushed her tight against it, their breastplates scraping against one another.

They kissed frantically, Halena's hands were everywhere – gripping his hair, digging her claws into his arm, teeth nibbling his lower lip...

"_I fucking love you right now..._" Rhoderen growled between kisses. No sooner had the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted saying them.

_She knows what I mean... Right?_

Halena moaned into his mouth and gripped him tighter.

A door creaked from down the corridor and they hurriedly broke apart, panting hard. Halena ran a hand through her suspiciously ruffled hair. Rhoderen shifted uncomfortably in his breastplate and cleared his throat.

"We, uh, we should probably get that sweet tea now." He scratched the back of his head and kept his eyes downcast.

"Well, we can. If you want." Halena wiped her brow, "But I actually only said that for effect. That knife is puncturing his artery – the serum will be in his blood stream in minutes."

"Oh." Rhoderen replied dumbly, "Well, shall we just get on with it then?"

"Are you going to be okay going back in? It is pretty ripe in there." Halena asked.

"Yes, I'll suffer through." The paladin gritted his teeth.

"Well, just give me a shout if you need me to hold your hair." The warrior teased.

"Fuck you." Rhoderen laughed.

"Sounds like a plan, Captain." Halena shot him a sultry smile over her shoulder as she let herself back into the cell.

As Rhoderen watched her, he was struck with the sensation that he'd just opened a can of worms he really shouldn't have... He followed the warrior into the cell.

The smell was just as revolting as it had been when they had first entered the cell, but this time Rhoderen was prepared. He steeled himself, gagging only once as he shut himself and Halena in the dank cell.

"Bitch... That bitch..." The Orc was muttering to himself. His body was slumped forward, a long string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth and trailing onto his own knee.

"Is he alright?" Rhoderen asked, stalking carefully closer to the prisoner.

"Oh yeah," Halena yanked the Orc upright, his head flopping backwards heavily. "He's just dandy." The warrior patted his shoulder.

"Bitch! Betrayed me!" The Orc bellowed, his eyes were glazed and vacant.

"Yeah, yeah – the Draenei's a bitch. We get it." Halena snorted.

"No... Not you, bitch. The other bitch!" The Orc slurred.

"Who? Which other-"

"She was... No! I can't... My heart – it's... pounding. What's going on?" The Orc was panting hard, like he'd been running. Sweat was pouring from his skin, his rags were sodden.

"Are you sure he's alright, Halena? I don't want to kill him – not until he tells us what we want to know."

"He's fine – the serum was laced with a light sedative." The warrior knelt in front of the Orc and lifted an eyelid to check his pupils. "Although maybe stabbing him to get it right into the blood stream wasn't the best idea..."

"She betrayed me!" The prisoner bellowed again, weakly attempting to thrash against his chains.

"Who? _Who_ betrayed you, Orc?" Rhoderen pressed.

"The Blood Elf! She promised us half her spoils... Those farmers had no valuables! We were set up!" He growled.

"By a Blood Elf, Orc? She hired you?" Rhoderen asked.

"By a _fuckin'_ Blood Elf!" He roared, "Beware... of the pretty things..."

"Tell us her name – we'll make sure she gets what's coming to her." Halena persuaded.

"No honour... Bitch! She promised..." The Orc's eyes glazed over. He stared vacantly into the room. "So blonde... Pretty... She betrayed me."

"What was her name, Orc?" Rhoderen replied sternly. He clenched his fists – they were so close.

"No! Not a snitch... She... Had no name – just saw her seal. She wore it..." The Orc sighed, his eyelids slid closed.

"Hey!" Halena slapped him hard, "You stay with us – what was her seal?"

"Snake... A snake in thorns..." The Orc coughed, blood foaming at the corners of his mouth.

"One last thing, Orc – then you can go to sleep, alright?" Rhoderen crouched and put his hand on the prisoner's shoulder. The Orc nodded, though he didn't open his eyes.

"Where did she hire you? Where will we find her?" The paladin swallowed, his mouth was dry.

"...Grom'gol."


	3. Chapter 3

Rian sighed forlornly. The ruby glittered so enticingly in the sunlight...

"That would have looked just... _perfect. _It's even the same shade of red as my breastplate." She sighed again, before tearing her gaze from the wonderful jewel-encrusted weapon. "Please take it away before I cry."

"No jewel for lady?" The Orc asked dumbly, his brows raising with disappointment.

"I'm afraid not, Vharr. My best laid plans have gone astray. I do not have the gold I promised you for the weapon." Rian smiled sadly, "That's a lesson for you, Orc - never underestimate another Orc's stupidity."

"Lady?" The Orc tilted his head, perplexed. The blood elf laughed.

"No matter." She paused and shaded her eyes as she looked up at the large orange sun hanging low in the evening sky.

"Lady want me to hold onto sword? Lady have more gold soon?"

"That's sweet of you to offer, Vharr." She smiled and took a deep breath, "But I'm afraid I won't be here much longer. This little filly is onto richer pastures and new adventures..." Rian turned, "With fewer _idiot_ Orcs." She muttered bitterly under her breath.

She waved fair-well to the simple-minded weapon-smith over her shoulder and adjusted her new travelling bag until it was more comfortable on her shoulders. It wasn't a jewelled sword, but it was pretty – made out of the finest, shiniest Netherweave silk. It was a consolation prize; something she was more than used to receiving for her efforts.

Rian supposed she shouldn't have been surprised her master plan had failed. Sending mercenaries to do anything but eat, drink and mindlessly pillage was a rookie mistake she shouldn't have made. Damn, but it hurt – that sword should have been _hers..._

"_Lesson learnt, Rian..."_ She chided herself, shaking her head. Her long blonde ponytail flashed in the dying sunlight.

Grom'gol had been a bust. Rian had really thought she'd hit the jackpot with this one. All her 'easy money-making' schemes before this one had been anything but _easy - _but this plan? As soon as she'd seen that large, mean-looking Orc in the bar, she'd known what to do. A few bats of her eyelashes and an overly inflated promise of riches and she had a whole troupe of mercenaries willing to do her bidding.

Though maybe sending them straight to Westfall had been misguided... She'd forgotten just how close those farms were to Stormwind.

Everyone made mistakes. She just hoped the Orcs, Trolls and Taurens she'd enlisted hadn't... suffered. Rian shook her head again, dispelling the negative thoughts. They'd known what they were getting into. She may have exaggerated the share of the profit they'd receive, but she'd been more than clear about how dangerous the mission would be.

She wasn't heartless, after all.

"Hold up there, Paladin." A large Orc guard outstretched his arm as Rian reached the hold's gates.

"Problem, officers?" She asked with a smile.

"Night is falling. If Stranglethorn is a dangerous place in the daylight; it's a lethal place under cover of nightfall, Blood Elf." The Orc said warningly, eyeing her up and down.

"Best wait until dawn before leaving the camp." A female Orc joined her male companion, nodding sagely.

"Well, I thank you both for your concern – but I think I will be alright." Rian dipped her head in thanks and skipped nimbly to the left, dodging around the large, meaty arm blocking her path.

"You think we joke about this, girl?" The male Orc growled after her.

"I hope not, Sir – because if so, it wasn't very funny." She grinned and strode confidently out into the wilds.

"I don't think you understand-"

"Let her go." The female Orc interrupted, placing a large hand on her team mate's shoulder. "One less bimbo in the world."

Rian rolled her eyes, but continued on her way. She knew better than to pick fights with guards.

Besides, the two Orcs seemed to be under the impression she was going out into the wilderness _hunting _or something! Booty Bay was her destination – and from there? Who knew! The world was her oyster.

Rian had never been to Booty Bay before, and had definitely never travelled on foot through the jungle, but she had done her research before setting out. A reliable source in the tavern had informed her the route was easy – just one dust track to the main road, then follow the signs to Booty Bay. Simple! If a _seasoned tiger-hunter_ had told her the track was easy-going, then she trusted his judgement.

As dusk drew on, Rian watched her shadow grow long and distorted in front of her feet. The thick undergrowth took on a strange pink glow, and the leaves rustled with a balmy breeze.

The jungle reminded Rian of herself – beautiful and deadly, but too laid back to make anything of itself other than organised chaos.

About a mile into her journey, the blood elf remembered why she had caught the Zeppelin to Grom'gol as opposed to walking when she had first decided to make settlement there.

The track to the main road had started open and easy-going, but as the blood elf pushed through further into the jungle she found herself losing her footing on the uneven dusty soil, and fighting her way through low, overhanging vines and foliage.

"_Damn_ that... _lying _tiger-hunter_..._" She muttered, panting and huffing as she crawled under a fallen tree.

Time seemed to pass her by, the journey got harder still and the light dimmer. Rian was sweating, her hair was frazzled and full of all manner of dirt and debris. She even had dirt under her nails. It pained her to keep them practical, short and trimmed as it was – to have _dirt_ under them as well... She shuddered.

"Why did I not just _sleep_ with that hunter?! I could have taken his purse whilst he slept and used the coin for the Zeppelin!" Rian growled to herself as she was forced to stop to remove yet another sharp stone from her nearly ruined boots. She sat heavily on an exposed tree trunk and wiped her furrowed brow.

Physical exertion made her cranky.

The blood elf took a water skin from her travel bag – which was now not looking so shiny and new, covered in mud splatters – and drank greedily. Rian gazed up at the waxing moon with a sigh.

When had it gotten so dark? She felt like she'd hardly covered any ground at all. Rian had hoped to be on the main road by the last of the light. From there, she had planned to catch a ride on the back of a handsome traveller's horse and be on her way to Booty Bay.

Instead, she found herself sweaty and plastered in mud, sat on a tree stump with no handsome travellers in sight. Story of her life.

"My feet hurt..." She grumbled, pouting at the frayed stitching sticking out from all angles on her footwear.

There was a gentle clicking from beside her. Rian looked down to find six beady eyes staring back at her, shining eerily in the moonlight. The spider tapped its mandibles together again, clicking in the darkness.

"That's the biggest spider I've ever seen." She whispered to herself. The blood elf swallowed, her body shot with tension, and slowly turned away from the creature.

The spider hissed and Rian shot to her feet, narrowly dodging the fangs as the creature lunged for her. The blood elf ran headlong into the forest, fumbling for her sword.

The huge spider was close on her heels, skittering almost silently through the undergrowth behind her. Rian's heart pounded in her ears, the air was too humid; she couldn't get any air... Why couldn't she get a grip on her sword?

The trees whipped and smacked at her skin, slicing and scratching her. Adrenaline pushed her forwards.

With sweaty palms, Rian finally got a solid grip on the handle of her sword. The blood elf pulled the weapon free with a single swipe and gritted her teeth, preparing to fight.

In her haste, she stumbled over an exposed root and the spider lunged for her again. She screamed as the sharp fangs sunk into her calf. Rian wasn't aware she was falling until she hit the hard, dusty ground with a thud. The sword flew from her grip, lost to the darkness. She was winded and gasped futilely for air. The hissing grew louder and louder.

She reached blindly, scrambling through the dirt for anything that could help her. Her hand closed around a rock. Without a second thought, the blood elf smashed the heavy stone into the spider's body, once... twice... Until she finally felt the fangs retract from her leg.

The limb was numb, there was no pain. Rian knew that wasn't a good sign. She wasted no time. Whilst the beast was stunned, she hopped carefully to her feet and limped as quickly as she could manage through the jungle.

Dazed, the blood elf stumbled through a wall of foliage; falling flat onto her front once again... The undergrowth had opened up, there was a cool breeze... Rian looked up. She was on the main road.

She cried out in pain and attempted to get to her feet again. Her left leg was completely dead. Rian struggled, clawing her way along the hard stone road.

The spider hissed from behind her...

_Bested by a spider... Well ain't that just-_

There was a guttural yell and the clang of steel. The spider screeched and hissed. Rian rolled over onto her back.

Two figures... Her vision swam. They were fighting the spider. Rian shook her head and desperately tried to focus on the strangers.

One of them had a shield – the spider was desperately trying to bite at the golden metal, but its primitive brain couldn't work out why the object wasn't dying.

The second stranger swung a sword, slashing and stabbing at the creature, using the shield-user as their blockade.

These were no travellers, these strangers knew how to fight; and had fought alongside more than once. They moved as one, dodging and slashing with perfect timing.

A man shouted something in a tongue Rian didn't understand. One of the strangers, the smaller of the two, ran to her side. She felt cool hands on her face. More shouting...

With a vicious swipe, the shield was driven into the body of the spider.

A balmy breeze fluttered through Rian's hair. The jungle fell silent, all she could hear was her own frantic breathing.

The stranger cupped an arm under the blood elf's body and hauled her upright. This stranger was a female. Rian couldn't understand her tongue, but her voice was soft.

The female called the other stranger over. A male.

They talked amongst themselves for a short while. The female was reasoning her side of an argument with the male... She tapped her fingers against Rian's breastplate. The female lowered her voice, an almost menacing tone creeping through it.

The male seemed to be enraged by whatever her suggestion had been.

He snapped something at the female, and Rian felt the supportive hands slip away from underneath her body. She flopped back, her skull hitting the stone with a loud , painful thud. She whimpered.

The female shouted something, the male ignored her.

Bright light erupted, burning her sensitive eyes. She was dying. Rian swallowed, filled with a sense of bitter regret. Such a short life, and nothing to show for it... She closed her eyes.

She felt nothing. A few long seconds ticked by. When the blood elf cracked opened her eyes, her vision was clearer; and getting more so by the second. The stranger was _healing_ her...

A shield-user... Using healing magic... The male was a paladin, like her.

"Thank the gods you found me..." She spoke, her voice hoarse.

"Don't thank me just yet." The male responded, in Orcish.

Where had she heard that accent before... Rian started.

"You're Draenei." She whispered, sitting up. Her head swam and her vision wavered.

"Yes." The male answered her simply.

"Why are you healing me?" Rian's arms shook holding her weight up.

"Your questions can wait. Lie down." The Draenei ordered.

"Okay." Rian obeyed, her arms giving way underneath her. This time, as she fell backwards, her skull was caught by a large, warm hand before it had a chance to smash into the stone road.

* * *

It was hot when Rian finally woke. Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry and she was wet all over with sweat. She lay still for a long moment.

What had happened to her?

Not feeling brave enough to open her sensitive eyes to the bright daylight, the blood elf rolled over, hiding her face from the streaming sunlight that burnt at her skin.

Metal clanged as she attempted to pull her arms forward. They were restricted... Rian's eyes shot open, the pain forgotten.

She was lying on her side in a tent-like structure, the pale overhanging material flapped gently as a breeze rolled by.

The blood elf struggled, rolling onto her hip before heaving herself upright. Both her arms were bound behind her back, iron manacles clasped on each wrist. Glancing down at her ankles, she found a similar situation.

The memories came flooding back.

She'd fought a spider... Her eyes darted to her calf. There were two large holes ripped through the soft cotton of the leggings she wore under her plate. The creature had managed to expertly pierce her skin between the protection of her plate and the beginning of her boot.

She frantically stretched and flexed her leg. Well she could move it. It didn't hurt.

"Please don't have scars..." She whispered to herself as she awkwardly attempted to inspect the wound site.

But then she wouldn't have scars... Rian swallowed. She had been healed by magic; Alliance magic, no less.

The Draenei.

As if reading her thoughts, Rian heard stirring outside the tent. Heavy footfalls moved closer. The blood elf frantically scanned the area looking for something, anything, she could use as a weapon.

Naturally, she found none.

A female Draenei pulled back the opening of the tent. Fresh air gushed in and Rian almost sighed with relief. The tent was like a sauna, hot, heavy and humid. Her underclothes were stuck to her skin, rubbing painfully where the hard edges of her armour bit into her flesh. She shifted uncomfortably.

In the light of day, the Draenei woman was beautiful, as they often were. Her bright eyes scanned Rian, but her face kept it's hard edge.

The woman turned her head and shouted something in Common over her shoulder.

Rian remembered now. It was the male who had healed her last night; the paladin. She saw a large shadow pass over the tent. The blood elf kept her face cool and composed, but clenched and unclenched her fists rhythmically behind her back where the Draenei woman could not see.

The male did not enter the tent, instead he chose to stand just out of Rian's view to the side of the opening. The two Alliance soldiers talked between themselves for a few long moments, and Rian wished she had paid more attention when her tutors had attempted to teach her Common as a child.

Eventually, after what sounded to be a tense conversation, the male backed away across the camp. The female Draenei turned and gave Rian the most hateful glare she had ever seen - and she had seen her fair share.

"You live." The female addressed her.

"Yes, many thanks to you and your companion." Rian replied coolly.

"Hn, don't thank me." The woman growled, "I wanted to let you rot on the side of the road."

"Oh. Well." Rian paused, "Extend my thanks to your companion only then."

"Shut up." The Draenei stalked forward, "I am to remove your breastplate."

"Why?"

"Didn't I say shut up?" The woman snapped and grabbed Rian's arm, her grip tightened more than was strictly necessary.

"Do I not have a right to know why you are removing my most vital piece of armour, not to mention the most expensive, custom made part?" Rian looked down, forlorn at the thought of losing the piece.

It had cost more gold than she cared to admit, the chest engraved with a detailed picture of a snake, entwined with roses and thorns. Her personal seal.

"I don't need to explain anything to you." The Draenei hissed, reaching over to unclasp the breastplate before roughly dragging it over Rian's head.

"Ow! Please, be care-" Before she could finish her sentence, the blood elf's face exploded with pain. The Draenei woman struck her, hard across the cheekbone, with the back of her hand.

Rian glared underneath her eyelashes.

The woman didn't say another word, just snatched up the beautiful ornate breastplate and stormed from the tent.

Once alone, Rian's eyes burnt and her face grew hot. No, she would not cry. She wouldn't give that bitch the pleasure of knowing she had hurt her. The slap was of no consequence to the elf; she had received much worse in the past, but taking her beloved possessions? Rian bit her lip and willed the wetness at her eyes to recede before either of her captors saw her weakness.

She focussed her thoughts. She needed a plan now more than she had ever needed one. What were these Alliance soldiers going to do with her? Surely they could not let her go any more than she would let them go, should their situations have been reversed.

_Well, I definitely wouldn't have kept Miss Stroppy alive for very long..._

Rian listened carefully to her companion's movements, to their conversations. She may not have been able to understand them, but the blood elf had already determined that both Draenei parties were tense.

Often, she would hear the female talking to the male but rarely would she hear a response; and when she did? It was always angry and clipped.

Rian wasn't sure if she should consider that a good sign or not.

If nothing else, it was clear the male had some position of authority over the female. It didn't take a genius to work out that the Draenei woman was unhappy about Rian still being alive, but she had yet to act on her desires.

All because the male was refusing to allow her.

The day drew on, hours ticking by like days. Rian was dying of thirst, her stomach rumbled loud and often, her shoulders were sore and stiff from the awkward position they were held in by the manacles... The list of the elf's complaints were endless, and with nothing else to occupy her mind, they were all she could think about.

By late afternoon, Rian had had enough.

"Hey! Hey, you two out there!" She shouted, her voice hoarse and dry from thirst, "How's about some food and water here? Unless your plan is to kill me slowly, in which case I'd have rather just let the spider have me."

There were low mutters of discussion outside the tent.

Low mutters became a heated debate; which swiftly became a full-blown argument.

The woman yelled something, spitefully, and stalked away. Through the cracked opening of the tent, Rian saw her slicing her sword viciously through innocent undergrowth.

It was just her and the male. The elf allowed herself a small smirk – she liked those odds. Males had never been very good at denying her what she wanted. She'd be a free woman by nightfall.

"So... How's about it, big guy? Can I get something to drink at least?" She called.

Her request was met with silence. Just as Rian began to believe she was actually alone at the camp after all, a familiar shadow stood and passed by the tent.

She held her breath, listening carefully to the male's movements. She had already determined he was a large man; his foot falls were heavy and the shadow he cast was quite formidable.

Rian had only met a few Draenei in her life, and possibly only one of those had been a male. She knew they were rumoured to be one of the largest races, rivalled only by Trolls.

As the shadow loomed closer, Rian licked her lips and schooled her expression to 'seductive'. She wished she had a free hand to run her fingers through her hair; she knew it was probably looking pretty awful, but she had to work with what she had available.

This might be her only shot with the male when the bitchy female wasn't around, watching her every move.

Rian had it all planned out in her head – he'd come in to give her the food, she'd point out how she couldn't eat without her hands. Then, he'd either release her from the manacles – which is when she'd knee him in the balls and run, or he'd choose to feed her.

Should he choose option two, Rian would do her very best 'little slut' performance. That would get him so wound up, he'd release her from the manacles to have sex with her... And then she'd knee him in the balls and run.

It was the perfect plan.

_Was_ the perfect plan... The male ducked himself into the tent, and Rian was lost for words.

Maybe it was just being in such close confines, but he was easily the biggest male Rian had ever seen. She swallowed and, contrary to her plans for escape; she shuffled further away from the Draenei.

His large, bulky plate armour did little to help with the illusion. He was wearing the most spectacular breastplate Rian had ever seen. All it was missing, in her opinion, was a personalised engraving.

His armour was all a pale silver, with gold trim; except the breastplate. That was solid gold and shone bright like the sun. He took good care of his plate...

He was disciplined. Authority rolled off him in waves. It was almost overwhelming; Rhian felt like she was suffocating. Everything about him was orderly and neat. He'd been camping in the jungle for a day (at least) and he was still polished and prim... Uptight? Maybe. Definitely a control-freak.

She knew he was military; and not just little leagues either. He was a member of the Alliance to be reckoned with. They didn't give the glad-rags to the nobodies.

He was handsome too, she concluded quickly. The only male Draenei she could remember seeing had been quite squat looking with a short, turned up nose. This male had a long, elegant face. He was dark haired with large, neatly curved horns.

_Horns..._ Rian swallowed thickly.

The only flaw in his otherwise-perfect facial arrangement were three long, ugly-looking scars marring his cheek. They hadn't been healed with magic if they'd remained like that... Rian wondered how he had gotten them. It looked to have been a painful affair.

No doubt the scars bothered him though – if he was handsome _now; _he must have been pretty breath-taking before.

"You're quiet now, hm?" He muttered, putting down a small metal plate and mug. Water and a crust of bread.

Rian supposed she hadn't been specific about _what_ food and drink she had wanted. It was probably a bit late to turn her nose up at the offering now...

His voice was heavily accented and so deep it almost seemed to rumble around her.

"Your friend didn't take too kindly to you feeding and watering me." Rian spoke, the voice coming from her throat sounding like someone else's.

"No." The Draenei looked up, right into her eyes. His gaze was steely and cold. Rian had seen that look before; there would be no seducing this male. He wanted to kill her.

She felt her heart fall and a knot form in her stomach.

"Thank you. Not just for the food, but for healing me as well. I appre-" She hadn't finished her sentence before he _snarled_ at her and tore from the tent with a fierceness that rocked her.

"Wait!" She called, "How am I supposed to eat this without my hands?"

"That's not my concern." He shouted back at her.

She had been a fool to think her escape would be so easy. These were Alliance officers – the paladin was even wearing the mark of 'Captain' on his beautiful breastplate. She had recognised the sigil from her Father's 'trophy collection' he'd shown her as a young girl.

For the first time in a long time, she felt alone.

* * *

Darkness had fallen hours ago. Halena had returned, muttered a brief apology and taken herself to bed... And still Rhoderen sat, staring into the fire, deep in thought.

He sighed heavily.

The paladin had thought finding the blood elf would have been a weight off his shoulders. He still couldn't believe she had run, screaming from a spider; right into his waiting hands. When Halena had pointed out her engraved breastplate, he should have been over-joyed. He should have killed her right there and then.

That's what Halena had wanted to do... And even if he hadn't killed her that night, and had chosen to enact a different kind of justice, the elf shouldbe_ praying_ for 'death by spider' by now; and yet he had not made his move. Again.

The girl remained alive, unharmed... Hell – he'd even _healed _her. Rhoderen had no idea why. Halena was struggling with this concept even more than he was himself.

The warrior wasn't know for her level-headed diplomacy at the best of times, and asking her to understand something _he _couldn't even justify? It was a strain their already tenuous relationship couldn't bear.

For weeks, all he'd been thinking of was justice. He'd imagined how he would do it thousands of times...

Rhoderen ran a hand over his face.

He could still hear the sickening sound of her armour crashing onto the road, that spider flying out of the brush at her...

She was just a girl. A young, _stupid_ girl. When they'd been told about the traitorous blood elf by the Orc prisoner, he'd imagined her to be... Evil. When they met - she would recognise him instantly, knowing he was coming for her, knowing the pain she had caused him and would attack him before he'd even had the _chance_ to think about capturing her.

Instead, Rhoderen had a girl half his age (at the most) in chains in his tent, without the faintest idea what to do about it.

The paladin snorted. It sounded a lot more appealing when he looked at it that way.

Rhoderen stared into the fire, pleading for a sign. Anything...

The jungle chirped on in the darkness.

He growled in frustration, throwing the leaf he'd been twisting between his fingers absent mindedly into the fire. He should have just killed her.

_I just can't shake the feeling that it would have been the wrong thing to do... That it still is the wrong thing to do._

What if he had been wrong? What if revenge wasn't the answer? Rhoderen clenched his teeth.

He wasn't accustomed to feeling conflicted about these matters. War and strategy came as easily to him as breathing. It was the only thing he _was_ good at, and now he seemingly didn't even have that.

He was drowning in a sea of his own making.

He stared across the fire at the elf's tent. A balmy breeze danced in the flames, scattering ashes all around.

Slowly Rhoderen got to his feet. He didn't sleep well lately. If he was going to be awake all night, he might as well be useful. Whether he killed the blood elf or not, she was still his prisoner. Until he decided what he wanted to do with her, it was his prerogative to ensure she didn't escape.

He got the feeling this girl was going to be a handful. He'd need to keep one eye on her at all times.

The paladin settled down alongside the tent. He held his breath, listening carefully for signs of activity from within. It was silent – the elf was probably comatose, exhausted from her trauma and-

"So." A small voice spoke out into the darkness. Rhoderen jolted, his heart leaping into his throat.

"I know you're sat out there, y'know." The girl spoke again, clearer this time. "You can't sleep either, hm?"

Rhoderen sat still, frozen in place. His heart hammered against his chest. He couldn't answer her... He couldn't have a conversation with her. Not until he'd decided what he was going to do with her.

"You're a chatterbox aren't you." She sighed, "Just can't get you to shut up."

Another long pause.

"Just as well. I like the strong-and-silent type anyway." The elf chuckled softly. "What's your type?"

Rhoderen opened his mouth to answer, floundered awkwardly, and shut it again. He badly wanted to clear his throat, but was afraid the girl would take that as his response. Instead he sat tense and coiled tight like a spring.

"I bet you don't even know, do you? I bet you're one of those men that has spent their entire lives in one barracks or another, never even _seeing_ women for years on end... Are you a virgin, Draenei?"

Rhoderen coughed, taken by surprise. Even over his spluttering he could hear the blood elf's tinkling laughter.

"I only said that to get a rise out of you. I _know_ you're not a virgin – you're far too attractive for that. No, not a virgin, but I bet you haven't had as many women as you _could_ have had. I bet you think it's 'dishonourable' or some shit. Scoundrels have more fun, you know." She teased.

Rhoderen looked up at the stars, twinkling far above his head, ignoring his face heating uncomfortably.

"I don't mind telling you that _I'm_ not a virgin." The elf snorted, "Though, those who have been inside me have paid a pretty penny one way or another for the privilege."

"Does that not bother you, blood elf?" The paladin growled, his stomach turning over.

"Does it bother you, Draenei?" She shot back.

Rhoderen didn't answer her.

"Do you mind if I ask why you are holding me prisoner? One paladin to another, I think I deserve to know that, at least."

"You're the blood elf that organised the mercenaries to attack Westfall, are you not?" Rhoderen snapped. She really was clueless – she didn't even know why she was here. Anger boiled in his veins, he clenched his fists.

"Oh, _that_. One of my more embarrassing failures." The elf brushed the facts off so easily, Rhoderen found himself gaping in disbelief at the tent.

"What were you trying to achieve?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"I wanted money. I sent them in to break into a few farm houses, rough up a few locals... They were supposed to bring their spoils back to me, and then I'd pay them for their efforts, but-"

"_Money?!_" The paladin exclaimed, turning to face the tent, "You mean to tell me, my men died so _you_ could buy yourself some new trinket?!"

"A new sword actually, but yes... Wait, what? Who died?" The elf faltered.

"My. Men." Rhoderen growled, "We were the ones who received the distress call. A young boy came to us for help protecting his family against the Horde scum who were slaughtering the farm hands."

The elf was silent. Rhoderen felt something snap inside him. All of his frustration, all of his guilt and anger... It all came pouring out of him.

"They weren't ready, but I had no other choice. I thought if we struck with the element of surprise, we might stand a chance in hell. They were _boys_, blood elf, and they were slaughtered like animals." Rhoderen's voice cracked despite his best attempts to fight off his emotions.

There was still no reply from the girl in the tent.

"For weeks, I've been planning how to enact revenge for my men. I thought tracking down the person responsible would help... And I get _you._ A mere girl who didn't even _know-_" He paused and shook his head in despair, "Tell me, blood elf, did you even care when you heard that those mercenaries died?"

"No." She answered simply, "They knew what they were getting into."

Rhoderen didn't have any words.

"I had told them to only fight if cornered, but mercenaries are nothing if not stubborn and painfully stupid." She continued, "I wasn't surprised to hear they had gotten themselves killed. I _am _surprised to hear they took your soldiers with them when they did so... Maybe they weren't so useless after all."

"So, what do you propose I do with you? I came here chasing forgiveness. A way to be released from my _crushing_ guilt..." Rhoderen spat.

"Are you going to kill me, Draenei?" The elf asked coolly.

"I wanted to... I think I still should..." He paused.

"But...?" The girl probed.

"But what is the point? Killing you won't change anything. I'll still be the Captain that got his entire troupe killed. The only thing killing you would do is add to the growing number of deaths I'm responsible for." Rhoderen sighed, "And that number is high enough already."

The paladin rested his head in his shaking hands.

"How many? If you don't mind me asking."

Rhoderen paused, weighing up his response.

"Too many. Before the war I used to be able to count them on one hand, used to be able to tell you their names... Now I can't even remember their faces." He replied truthfully.

The fire flickered, ash danced gracefully into the night sky. Rhoderen sighed.

"You've been to war?" The elf asked, curiously.

"Unfortunately." Rhoderen grunted.

"Which?"

"What's it to you, blood elf?" He snapped.

"Curiosity. If I am to be dead soon, what does it matter what I do and do not know?" The elf replied. If she was scared of her imminent death, her voice did not portray it. She talked of it as if it were happening to someone else.

"Warsong." Rhoderen answered eventually.

There was a long, low whistle from inside the tent.

"You're a veteran. It's quite the privilege to talk with you. I don't know the details of how the Alliance fared during that war, but the Horde... Well, I'm sure it's no secret that not many came back."

"Likewise." Rhoderen replied, closing his eyes.

"Is that how you gored your face?" She asked bluntly.

"No." He sighed, "That's another story."

"Maybe another night then." The elf yawned loudly.

"Hn, if you get another night blood elf." The paladin scowled.

"Yes. If I get another night." She paused, "About your men..."

"Yes?"

There was another long pause. There was a long, lonely howl from deep within the jungle.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Do you have a name, Draenei?"

"Yes." Rhoderen sighed. "Be quiet now, blood elf."

"Very well. Goodnight Draenei." The girl purred.

Rhoderen remained sat beside the tent. At first he listened carefully to the blood elf, straining to hear any signs of her plotting an escape. Eventually, when only quiet snores greeted him, he relaxed.

The paladin stood and moved closer to the fire once again, the elf's words going around and around in his skull.

_What am I going to do?_


End file.
